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Category Archives: Bill McKenzie

The military crisis in Iraq is typically described in religious terms – a millennia-old conflict between Sunni and Shia. No doubt the sectarian divide has fueled tensions and defined the war. It has given critics ammunition to argue against sending more troops into a religious civil war. There is an emerging view that we should just stay out and let the parties fight it out themselves, as they have done for hundreds of years.

Todd Slater

For some, it’s hard not to blame religion. Religion is often in the frame of modern conflicts. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict predated the creation of the modern state of Israel. The civil war in Ireland pitted Catholics against Protestants. Religious tensions in Nigeria divide the country between the Muslim north and the Christian south. Hindus and Muslims oppose each other in South Asia. The conflicts in Croatia, Serbia, Bosnia and Kosovo involve Orthodox, Catholic and Muslim followers.

Religion seems to be connected with violence virtually everywhere. Critics of religion are quick to put the blame on religion. Advocates of faith counter with religion’s record as a force for peace. One 18th century writer said we have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another.

As people of faith, how to we talk with those who say religion is to blame? How do we respond when someone asks if religion has succeeded in any of its efforts to unite mankind?

When a critic points to conflicts in Iraq, across the Middle East, Asia, Africa and Europe and says religion is to blame – how do we respond?

Today is my last day here at the Dallas Morning News, as this column explains. Before I bid farewell, I want to say a few things.

First, it has been an absolute privilege to be part of this institution, especially this editorial department, for the last 22.5 years. Debating issues with the colleagues who have sat around our conference room table has been an exercise in democracy. What an opportunity that has been. And what a country — and industry — in which we get to do that.

Second, what a privilege to see so many fascinating people walk through our doors. Bill Clinton, Al Gore, Jesse Jackson, Ann Richards and Bob Bullock have been some of the more prominent Democrats. On the Republican side, we have seen George W. Bush, Jim Baker, Condoleezza Rice, Dick Armey and Newt Gingrich. The flow of such people has often made this a spell-binding job.

Of course, there have been some, well, interesting characters. None more so than the City Council candidate back in 1991 who talked about how he liked to carry a Bowie knife. He sat at one end of the long conference table, while Rena Pederson, Richard Estrada and I sat at the other. He shouted his answers, Garrett Morris-style. Let me just say we were very glad to get out of that one — alive.

Third, I would like to thank Jim Moroney for his energetic and humane leadership of this newspaper and Bob Mong for his emphasis on intelligent journalism. I would like to tell Keven Willey how very much I appreciate her steady, supportive and fearless leadership of this department. She has been a writer’s editor and for that I am grateful. And so many thanks go to Rena Pederson for hiring me way back in 1991 and for putting this editorial page on a moderate path.

Many, many thanks also go to Sharon Grigsby, Mike Hashimoto, Carolyn Barta and Bob Moos for editing my editorials and columns at various points over the last two decades. Each of you made me a better writer and I deeply appreciate your counsel.

Fourth, I would like to thank the people who have made this department work and without public fanfare. Carole Portele, Brenda Flatt, Bobbie Gaston and, now, Bonnie Bishop. They have taken the heated calls, prepared the many contest entries and managed the constant flow of people and questions. And they have done so
with grace.

And, finally, how fortunate I was to meet my life’s partner, Jennifer Nagorka, in this department. We have shared ideas, debated issues and now are raising twin 10-year olds. They have grown up in this department, literally. This newspaper and department are part of the DNA of our family.

Let me stop here and say thanks to you, the readers of this paper and blog. We don’t exist without you. I hope to return to contribute essays to the paper and Texas Faith after I get settled at the George W. Bush Institute, so the dialogue will continue at some point.

For now, though, I say thanks for this wonderful opportunity. Again, what a country. What a profession. What an institution.

Editor’s Note:This entry marks my last one as co-moderator of this wonderful blog. As this column explains, I am making a move to the George W. Bush Institute. After getting settled, I look forward to becoming a panelist and contributing answers. Meanwhile, Happy Holidays — and Merry Christmas — to all our readers.

A new Pew Research Center Religion and Public Life survey reports that 90 percent of Americans — or almost all of us — celebrate Christmas in some fashion. The study shows that most still view it as a religious holiday, but certainly not all. In fact, only a slim majority consider it a religious holiday.

Interestingly, there appears a sharp generational difference in the way Americans see Christmas. According to Pew, Americans under age 30 are far more likely to see Christmas as a cultural holiday. Likewise, they are less likely to attend religious services at Christmas or to believe in the Virgin Birth.

The survey also reports on the similarities in the ways Americans celebrate Christmas. Most of us observe the holiday with families and friends.

The Senate looks closer and closer to a budget deal. While not perfect, the pact certainly is worth supporting. If nothing else, the deal buys Washington time to start considering the longer-term challenge of reforming entitlement programs.

But what is not part of this deal is the farm bill, which Congress apparently will not reauthorize before it recesses for the holidays. The major part of that measure deals with food stamps. They get the most attention, and they should.

As I wrote in this column this summer, conservation spending can help farmers and ranchers practice innovative irrigation techniques or grow grasses and crops that demand less water. In parts of the country that depend upon aquifers for water supplies, smart conservation practices can stretch out the lifetime of an underground water source.

One way to get enough money for conservation programs is to reduce spending in the bill for crop insurance premiums. Congress funds an average 62 percent of a farmer’s insurance payment, regardless of the person’s financial condition.

I’m not saying farmers should get no help. They should get some help. But there needs to be better determination of who gets assistance.

Evidently, those decisions will get pushed into 2014. If rewritten properly, this legislation could improve the way water is used to grow crops and livestock. On the other hand, it could miss a big opportunity to help ag producers cope with droughts. So, stay tuned.

You really can’t overstate the impact of Mexico’s decision last week up to open up its energy markets to foreign investors. The move by Mexico’s Congress is undoubtedly its most important economic decision since the nation agreed to the North American Free Trade Agreement in 1994.

First, Mexico is finally reversing the nationalization of its oil industry, which the Mexican government took over in 1938. That’s when foreign oil producers, including here in Texas, got kicked out of the country. Ever since, Pemex, the nation’s oil company, has been a symbol of national pride, despite its many problems. No longer. Mexico’s leaders rightly understand that private investment is the way to grow the nation’s potentially enormous energy industry.

Second, Mexico can use foreign capital to expand its energy production. Some experts see this as a way to place Mexico alongside Canada and the U.S. as major North American producers. If that happens, and I don’t see why it wouldn’t given Mexico’s untapped offshore reserves, North American oil and gas production could help provide less political risky supplies of energy.

Third, a transformed oil industry will allow Mexico to pick up its economic pace. The country has seen some good times since NAFTA opened up many parts of the nation’s economy in 1994. But growth has recently been sluggish. More natural gas production in particular will help the country grow its industries. Gas will become cheaper, and that should make it easier for Mexican industries to use it to produce their products.

Fourth, a strengthened Mexico will help the U.S./Mexico relationship. That includes the Texas/Mexico relationship. Stability on the border can help on many fronts, including creating new forms of employment. Eventually, that could help curtail the attractiveness of the drug trade and also regularize immigration flows.

Fifth, Texas oil producers will have many new opportunities south of the border. They will have new places to explore for oil and gas, as well as places to locate and own refineries. What’s particularly noticeable is that they can own the oil after producing it. That’s a big, big shift, which was not expected only a few months ago.

To be sure, any big deal like this carries risks. Some Mexicans will take their anger out on Mexican President Enrique Pena Nieto, whose embrace of this opening is his own Nixon-goes-to-China move. And some experts think this decision could increase corruption in the oil industry, much like what happened in Russia after oil plays there became fraud-central.

Still, what was Mexico to do? Just sit on its large quantity of energy reserves, which Pemex no longer had the capacity to produce?

Of course not. This is one smart and monumental move forward for Mexico — and the U.S.

Photo of Nelson Mandela at Johannesburg memorial service for nation's former leader

How do you assess the complex legacy of Nelson Mandela?

There are so many ways to get into this question. So, let me start with these three quick summaries of his long journey:

In a powerful and controversial move as president, he set up a Truth and Reconciliation Commission after apartheid officially ended. The commission allowed those who testified about crimes in the apartheid era to step forward and tell the truth without fear of retribution. The sins of the past were acknowledged in exchange for individual amnesty.

On the other hand, Mandela was part of a group in the early 1960s that decided to take up arms against the apartheid government. They decided that rising up militarily against their oppressors was the best strategy. Of course, that was not the non-violent approach that Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr and Mahatma Ganhdi embraced.

Mr. Mandela said he regarded his prison experience as a major factor in his nonracial outlook. He said prison tempered any desire for vengeance by exposing him to sympathetic white guards who smuggled in newspapers and extra rations, and to moderates within the National Party government who approached him in hopes of opening a dialogue. Above all, prison taught him to be a master negotiator.

There are many aspects of his long, storied and complicated fight for justice. So, let me stop here and ask you:

Water levels in Lake Lavon and other lakes have worried state water planners

Now that voters have approved a fund to finance the state’s leading water projects, the new leaders of the Texas Water Development Board must not even remotely look like they are handing out funding for regional water projects based upon political influence or cronyism. The controversy surrounding the awarding of grants from the state’s cancer research fund, CPRIT, is exactly what the three members of the water board must avoid.

So far, the members — Carlos Rubinstein, Bech Bruun and Mary Ann Williamson — seem to get the message. They announced last week a set of standards for handing out awards.

The standards came about through a series of meetings the leaders of the state’s 16 regional water planning authorities recently held. Together, they ironed out the list, which they sent to the TWDB.

The benchmarks focus on five elements.

First, projects will be sorted by the decade for which they are planned. If a project is planned for a decade in which the state is projecting great water need, it will receive up to 10 points. Similarly, a project will earn a certain amount of points based upon the decade in which funding will first be required.

Second, the feasibility of the project will be rated. Among other criteria, projects that show a high probability of yielding water will get higher points.

Third, the viability of a project will be assessed. For example, the regional group will look at whether a project is the only economically viable one for the region outside of conservation.

Fourth, the sustainability of the project will enter into the ranking. Here, regional leaders will look at factors like how long a project might supply water.

Fifth, the cost-effectiveness of the project will be evaluated. In short, they will look at how much it will cost to supply a unit of water and compare that to other projects the region is considering.

Points will be earned — or not earned — in each of these five areas. The points will be weighted so no one standard dominates the decision. Then the points will be tabulated, with the goal of getting close to 100 points.

To be sure, there will be some arm-wrestling over how many points a project may get in each category. That’s probably human nature.

But better this methodical strategy than a Wild West approach. The Texas Water Development Board is starting with a set of benchmarks that can avoid confusion down the road, assuming that members remain true to these benchmarks now and in the future.

Rights to underground water are a big issue to Texas ranchers and farmers

Here’s the next big water issue for Texas, now that voters have done the right thing and approved a way to fund the state’s water plan. As this Texas Tribune story explains, the state must figure out who controls the water in its aquifers.

Historically, the state has allowed individuals to pump as much as they like, so long as their pumping doesn’t harm their neighbor. That’s called the rule of capture.

Of course, finding that balance is not easy. That’s why the state long ago set up groundwater districts. They function like local school boards in communities, determining how much someone should be able to pump without damaging their neighbor.

Or, the districts are supposed to do that. Not all groundwater districts are the same. Some have a good amount of money, strong leaders and keep the future in mind. Others lack those elements.

As this story points out, the inconsistency of the districts, plus the lack of some in areas where the state has considerable groundwater, poses a problem.

From my perspective, the best answer is for the state to continue building up groundwater districts. The Legislature should give them ample power to enforce their rules and back them up with money to do their work, which should include keeping local ag producers aware of the best ways to manage their water supplies. They are close to their communities, and can be in a position to make good decisions.

If the Legislature doesn’t do that, and districts don’t make hard calls, they each are asking the state to reconsider the rule of capture. That would mean setting up some state apparatus to determine groundwater allocations.

I don’t think the Legislature is ready to take on that issue at this point. But that is where we are headed if we don’t have enough groundwater districts and we don’t have enough who will do their work right.

For what seemed like forever, DISD was plagued in the last decade with the fallout from bad accounting errors that led to layoffs and other serious budget cuts. The district’s fund balance dwindled to around $30 million, which is way too low.

Now, though, DISD’s reserve account is around $260 million. That’s quite a reversal, which Superintendent Mike Miles and the district’s financial folks should feel good about.

At the same time, districts shouldn’t commit another error by jacking up their fund balance so high that they don’t use it for smart investments. Or, they sit on it while they go to taxpayers with a request for a rate hike to meet various needs.

I am not saying DISD is doing that. In fact, DISD’s fund balance is in the range of what the Texas Education Agency recommends.

But running up too high a fund balance is the other problem the district must avoid. A delicate balance, to be sure. For the moment, let’s be glad that DISD is no longer skating on the edge of financial disaster.

Thanks, Rodger, for the kind words, even though you did scoop me on my planned announcement. Yes, I am leaving for the Bush Institute in early January. I have plans to write a column later this month with all the details about the next chapter of my life. Stay tuned.

Okay, away from the policy front a moment. Saturday provided yet one more reason why college football is such a thrill to watch. Yes, I know, there are dreadful injuries on the college field, just as there are in the NFL, which I wrote off as the equivalent of boxing in this recent post.

Still, there is something magical about college football. That Auburn/Alabama game was about as unexpected an end as you could imagine. Ohio State and Michigan ends with Michigan deciding, heck, we’re going for two to win this thing. The Wolverines gambled and lost, but the coach asked the team whether they wanted to take that risk in their final game. They did, and what an ending.

My son and I saw a similarly breathtaking end to the TCU/Baylor game Saturday in Fort Worth. He and I both are TCU fans, so we were sorry to see the Frogs lose. But talk about pathos. The game came down to the last play, just as TCU’s previous three games had done.

Meanwhile, there were about at least a dozen highs-and-lows during the game. The TCU and Baylor fans in our section were riding them up and down. As the game progressed through its peaks and valleys, our row of Frog supporters, the average age of which had to be at least 60, were alternating between high-fiving each other and shaking our heads in agony.

What I loved about all of that is the game brought out such deep-seated emotions in us. I mean, where else do you get to show such enthusiasm and disappointment in a public setting? And do it across age-levels? There was my elementary school-age son slapping hands with retirees. How much fun is that.

The fans were hardly the only ones getting into the moment. As the game moved to its climatic end, I looked down on the field and saw TCU Coach Gary Patterson essentially sprinting the sideline, motioning his team toward the goal line after Baylor missed a field goal. He looked like a captain directing his troops toward the next hill.

Of course, TCU threw an interception in the end zone and lost on the last play. But, from my perspective, I didn’t mind. The game stretched over four dramatic hours, ending with the lights blaring down on us after the brilliant sunshine had faded.

Perhaps one day I will think of college football as being like boxing. But not now. Cliche-sounding as it is, football broadcaster Keith Jackson was right: What a way to spend an autumn afternoon.

Earlier this month, Douglas Johnston spoke to the World Affairs Council. Johnston heads the International Center for Religion and Diplomacy. His message was that we need to keep dealing with the ideas behind the guns. Johnston, a Naval Academy grad with long service in the military, made it clear that he is not a pacifist. But he also emphasized we must keep looking at the religious roots of conflicts. That means understanding them, dealing with them and perhaps reconciling them.

As I picked up the paper today, his words kept coming to mind. Look at some of the most pressing international headlines: Iran, Afghanistan and Syria. In one way or another, religion is wrapped up in the tensions surrounding these countries.

In Afghanistan, the Taliban’s ultra-strict views of the Koran clearly pose a threat to that country’s stability. Not all Taliban may be the same. But particularly worrisome are the awful circumstances Afghan women could again encounter if the Taliban returns to power.

Taliban leaders once used religious doctrine to suppress — make that cruelly suppress — the freedom of Afghan women. They could do so again if they destabilize Afghanistan.

For that reason alone, we need to keep some limited military presence in the country. U.S. training of Afghan troops and our counter-insurgency work could provide a bulwark against the more repressive elements of the Taliban.

But, ultimately, the conflict in Afghanistan is a war of ideas. The stability of the nation eventually rests upon the forces of Islamic moderation and even secularization. If they prevail, they will create room for many voices in modern Afghanistan.

Finally, in Syria, the struggle may be about more raw political power. Still, there is an element of religiosity at play. Those trying to construct a peace conference to resolve Syria’s civil war are looking for “confidence building” measures. Part of this will be resolving tensions between Sunni Muslims and Shiite Muslims.

There is no easy, one-two-three step to resolving any of the religious dimensions of these conflicts. They are deeply-seated and intertwined with the human desire for raw political power.

But Johnston is right, in my opinion. We need to understand the ideas behind the guns. And that leads to understanding the religious elements.

This Sally Quinn essay from The Washington Post struck me as a provocative piece. In writing about the search for meaning in our lives, she describes an anti-pastor, an anti-gay atheist and Billy Graham at the end of his career.

The piece is worth the read if only for the part about the “tattooed Lutheran pastor, weight lifter, stand-up comic, former alcoholic and drug addict and hard-swearing Nadia Bolz-Weber.”

At the end, Quinn, in talking about the search for meaning, asks: Aren’t we all searching for community and wonder?

I have been thinking a lot about what it takes to be a leader, or a successful one. I was struck by Peggy Noonan’s recent blog entry where she says that JFK did not have any particularly strong ideology, he just wanted to be president. Writes Noonan:

“He wasn’t that interested in ideology. He was propelled by a belief that of all the available leaders around, he’d be as good as any and better than most. He wanted to win, triumph and rise, and these are not bad things, and he thought that he, along with the best and the brightest he brought into the White House, could handle, with practicality and pragmatism, what came over the transom.”

I have a feeling that most of our presidents have ended up in the Oval Office because they simply thought they were as good as anyone else considering the job. It wasn’t that they thought they could bring global peace, advance freedom and juice the economy, although those are important and they all have wanted to do that.

Instead, they thought they could do the job and wanted to go for the gold, as the saying goes.

To be fair, I don’t think most thought about the job in a reactive way, i.e., what comes in over the transom. They have wanted to advance certain goals. Ronald Reagan, for example, was clear about his aims of hiking defense, cutting taxes and being fiscally disciplined. Kennedy had his two, including a tough anti-communism and an emphasis on civil rights.

But Noonan’s definition of Kennedy is probably close to the mark for many presidents. They thought they had the goods.

This question has been on my mind as I have thought about how Kennedy could be a fairly lackluster senator but a captivating president. How can you move from one post to the next, and suddenly shine?

I don’t have the answer, other than Kennedy may have seen himself more as a president than a senator. He had a certain charm, a way with words and a sense of idealism, as Robert Caro suggests in this interview. Those added to his ability as president. Most of all, though, he may have just wanted the job.

I am just back from Dealey Plaza and the 50th anniversary ceremony of John Kennedy’s assassination. Here are my thoughts:

Neither the nation nor the city of Dallas can undo the events of November 22, 1963. What happened here happened here, and nothing can change that awful fact. Nor can we stop history and bring back the idealism that John Kennedy exuded, which was the most important part of his aborted presidency.

But as I looked up at the window from which Lee Harvey Oswald fired his shots, the flag sitting half-mast in the foreground, I thought how proud I was of our city’s attempt to redeem what happened that day. As Mayor Mike Rawlings spoke, talking about how the New Frontier is still being born in a city on the Texas frontier, I thought how the people of this city have risen up against the evil that came out of “that window” that day.

Oswald may have changed the course of history, but on this day in this city the people were taking back part of our history. The story of a nation is never completely written. We still write it ourselves. By adhering to values like service, compassion, freedom and opportunity, which Kennedy certainly embodied, we write new and better chapters. History just doesn’t stop with the act of a gunman, whose own mental demons drove him into darkness.

It’s fair to wonder if Oswald was the first mentally ill gunman of our times. By that, I mean I wonder if he suffered from the type of severe mental illnesses that we know well today. The little I have read about his background, which included moving from school to school and being raised by a difficult mother, suggest that dark forces were at work within him. (I used to see Oswald’s mother on occasion in the grocery store in Fort Worth, and the word “difficult” is perhaps the most charitable way to describe her.)

Michael Granberry of this paper and I were talking about Oswald’s mental condition before the ceremony began. Later assassins, like John Hinckley, certainly suffered from mental illness. Did Oswald, but we just knew less about it then?

The final thought I had was how the weather is once again a story line on November 22. Fifty years ago, of course, the day started dank. I remember those early morning skies because my mother wouldn’t let me go see Kennedy in Fort Worth that morning because I had been sick. But quickly, the sun came out. And the day turned beautiful — until Oswald fired his shots. Many have naturally speculated that Kennedy never would have been shot if the skies had not cleared. The rain would have kept the bubble on his limousine.

Weather was a major part of November 22, 2013, too. Bitterly cold grey skies hung over Dealey Plaza. About 11:30, rain started spitting out of the sky. Rawlings poignantly referred to the drizzle as the heavens weeping, or some language like that. I’m sure speakers like David McCullough fought to get their words out without their teeth chattering.

Despite the chill and dampness, I felt a certain strength walking back down Houston to the paper. Fifty years ago, our DMN colleagues were scrambling to find out what happened, rushing back down Houston to write what they had discovered. This year, the scene is different. As journalists, we have time to reflect. My reflection revolves around that pride I feel in our city for trying to redeem the moment. Not reclaim it, because we can never do that. But we can stand as one against the forces of darkness. That we did today.

At first, I had my doubts about Dallas doing this 50th anniversary observation of the Kennedy assassination. I kind of leaned the way Ralph De La Cruz did in his Sunday Points piece. But the more I watch people pour into town, the more I can’t imagine what would have happened if Dallas did not have some official commemoration.

As early as Monday, the West End was teeming with people. True, some were here for a convention. But a number had media credentials around their necks. Since then, the pace has only picked up.

Weather looks like it could interfere with the ceremony tomorrow. But even if it does, Mayor Mike Rawlings and the crew planning this event deserve credit. They have created a structure for tomorrow, which will allow people in some official way to observe the death of a president in our streets half a century ago. As an early doubter, I tip my hat.

Sometime in the 1990s, McGeorge Bundy came to the Morning News for an interview with our editorial board. Bundy had served as JFK’s national security adviser, and was in town for a reason I don’t recall.

After the interview, I ended up driving him back to The Anatole. As we left the Morning News‘ parking lot, I realized that one route would take us by the Kennedy assassination site. I thought it would be best if I asked him if he wanted to go that way, or whether I should go another route. I feared that driving by the site may be too traumatic.

But he insisted that we drive by Dealey Plaza. He told me that he had never seen it. That was a very poignant moment, given that he was one of the late president’s top aides. On November 22, 1963, I believe, he was flying with a number of Cabinet officials across the Pacific Ocean to a meeting. So, here he was, for the first time, seeing the place where his boss, if you will, lost his life.

As we approached the intersection of Elm and Houston, where the old School Book Depository building sits, I decided it was best to remain silent. He deserved to have a time to reflect upon all that he was seeing.

But what was interesting, and has always remained in my mind, is the first thing that he said as we sat at the stoplight at Elm and Houston, staring down at the Grassy Knoll. He suddenly blurted out, “Dallas got a bad rap for this.”

I was blown away by his comment, which was remarkably gracious. It was revealing that the first thing he said was about Dallas. And it was not a venal comment. To the contrary. He was saying, decades later, that this city took too much of a hit for Lee Harvey Oswald’s evil act.

I don’t remember what else we talked about as we drove toward The Anatole, ironically driving the same route that a racing limousine had followed in taking Kennedy to Parkland so many years before. The poignancy of the moment, plus Bundy’s comment at the intersection, must have blocked everything else out of my mind.

But I have thought about both as we approach November 22, 2013. I particularly thought about his Dallas line as discussion has boiled up about whether Dallas was responsible for JFK’s death. It’s an important conversation to have, but the answer of one of JFK’s closest advisers remains very present in my mind.

At the end of this week, Americans will pause to observe the 50th anniversary of John F. Kennedy’s death. We in Dallas particularly will be in the middle of the observation. The assassination, of course, happened here. And Dallas Mayor Mike Rawlings has put together a gathering at Dealey Plaza to commemorate the anniversary of Kennedy’s assassination.

Earlier, this panel discussed the impact John Kennedy had on Catholicism. Let’s now look at the Kennedy impact in another way.

Why is it that the nation still pauses 50 years after his death?

The country has never really looked back on the assassination of any our other leaders, except perhaps that of Abraham Lincoln. So, is this just part of the Kennedy mystique?

Or does this national moment of reflection say something about an innate human need to have princes we look up to, even if the scriptures warn against putting one’s faith in princes?

Or are we pausing because we still wonder what might have happened if an assassin’s bullet had not put the country on a different course?

Or was it only one assassin? I think so, but the open question for some creates a giant sense of mystery around his death. Is that why we keep focusing on November 22? Does the mystery draw us in?

Or do we stop to reflect because he was having an impact on the country that was suddenly aborted?

Or here’s one more thought: Is November 22 now mostly a media creation?

Obviously, there are many different angles here. And there are many more. But from your perspective: Why does the nation still pause 50 years after John Kennedy’s assassination?

Allan Ritter was my nominee for Texan of the Year because of the GOP representative’s singular contribution to getting the Legislature and voters to approve a way to fund Texas’ water plan. But Rep. Garnet Coleman deserves consideration for his contribution on another front: mental health care.

The Houston Democrat led legislators in increasing funding for mental health care at a level that had not been done in several sessions. He also secured passage of HB 2625, which broadened the range of mental illnesses that the state’s Medicaid program must cover for adults and children. Both reforms should greatly help Texans who suffer from mental illnesses.

As an example, one of the first things I heard when researching the quality of care in group homes is that few residents could get help funding care for their severe mental illness. By contrast, a Texan who suffers from mental retardation could receive aid.

Coleman’s HB 2625 took on that problem. The measure expands the list of severe mental illnesses Medicaid will cover. Previously, the list included schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. Now, it will include others such as post-traumatic stress disorder, major depression and obsessive compulsive disorder.

This work is personal to Coleman. He suffers from bipolar disorder. We should be grateful for how he has drawn upon his struggles to champion better mental health care in Texas. This year, his work was exceptional.

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